Waiting for the Rain
by reenzie
Summary: Draco Malfoy has a reoccurring dream and is unsure why. He finds out that he is a Veela, but what does that have to do with the dream? DMOC [We're back after months of nothing, we're finally back!]
1. The Dream

_"It all began with the dream," _he remembered with a sad smile, "_The dream."_

)(FLASHBACK)(

_He was just sitting in The Three Broomsticks, nursing a Butterbeer when he saw her through the dusty window. Jumping to his feet, he dropped a Galleon next to his drink and ran from the pub. Once outside, he kept his eyes trained on the girl, her long red hair flowing down her back. Somehow he knew her... and somehow he wanted to know more. The girl, so familiar, yet so unknown, had stopped now, as did he. Walking slowly toward her, he saw that her face was upturned toward the drenching rain. Looking around he saw not a single person but the girl, whose name he could not remember, as hard as he tried. _

"_Hey," he began, but when she didn't respond, he continued, "Rain." _

_It was all he said, but it seemed right. The girl, Rain, turned to him. Though her clothes were plastered to her self like a second skin, and her fiery hair was soaking and in her eyes, she took mind of nothing but the absurdly blonde boy in front of her._

"_No."_

"_No, what?" He asked, confused._

"_I'm not her anymore," she replied, flustering the teen more. "I used to be, but never, never again. Not after what happened."_

"_But Rain-" he started, but she cut him off._

"_I love you," she whispered, almost inaudibly beneath the wind, "But I'm not who you think I am."_

"_Yes, yes you are-" he stopped when she sat down in the mud, her stormy gray eyes turned once again toward the sky and her knees against her chest, making her look as though she was a small child, not about the same age as him. That is when he noticed the knife at her neck. He knelt beside her and went in to kiss her petite nose, though he didn't know why at the moment, and she pushed him away, glaring. _

"_No, I told you no. I'm not real, and neither are you," the girl replied in a calm, but cold voice. "You've got it wrong. And don't call me that. I told you to never call me that!" Her voice was rising, but not due to anything he noticed. She seemed to be yelling at someone behind him, but he was unable to turn. It was as if he was glued to the spot, sentenced to be forever staring into her hurt and angry, but nonetheless beautiful eyes. The eyes destined to die, soon._

That is always where he was woken from the dream, usually by a house-elf that he quickly shoved out of his room. Then, the tears came. After the dream, he would cry for hours as though he had lost something dear to him. It felt as though he had lost something, like both his heart and soul were tearing themselves into pieces.

It had been that summer, mere weeks after the dream had come for the first time, the summer after his 17th birthday, that Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune discovered that he was a Veela. Part Veela at least, his Grandmother on his mother's side had been a Veela. Marrying a magical creature was considered better than marrying anyone with muggle blood, and with so few pure-blooded families left in Europe, and inbreeding at an all-time high, Veelas seemed to be a popular choice, despite the fact that they weren't at all human.

Draco had taken this news remarkably well, with small amounts of pouting, stamping about and breaking objects. This was a plus, seeing as it had been Narcissa who had had to tell the boy, while his father was in Azkaban. His father, arrested after the war, which the wonder-boy had won, with help from Draco. The platinum blonde boy had decided it was better to be a colleague of the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die than to be a servant of the most insane and wicked wizard of the century. Potter had won by the smallest percentage, really. Narcissa had joined Draco in the fight for the Light, just to spite her husband, who had not really been Narcissa's mate.

Moving on with Draco's story, he had taken most of the Veela news in stride, besides the fact that he would be stuck with one girl (or boy) for the rest of his natural born life. Sure he'd be extremely attractive, sure he'd be twice as powerful as before, but he'd be under the control of one person, his _mate_. Even the word made the Slytherin Play-Boy's skin crawl. Attached to one person for his whole life- ugh! It sounded horrible! What if she- he- _they_ were a bad kisser, or worse, bad in the sack! He couldn't take it anymore! The tall, slim boy climbed into be and put a pillow over his head, and tried to not think of the horrors that might become him at school. What if his powers were unleashed? Or what if his mate was a Hufflepuff! With many queries floating about the depths of his mind, he fell asleep, and once again dreamed of the girl called Rain.


	2. Welcome Feast

"Draco, you can eat now."

"Hm?" The Slytherin asked his best friend, Blaise Zambini as he was shaken out of his reverie.

"I told you to eat, what's wrong with you Draco?" The dark boy asked, "You haven't seemed yourself since you got here. First there were rumors that you took some potion that made you beautiful or something, now you completely miss the sorting, you usually love that!" Blaise said in a hushed tone.

"It's nothing Zambini," the part Veela replied as he helped himself to some Shepard's Pie and tried to pry Pansy off of his arm, "I'm just tired from the trip."

Zambini peered skeptically at Draco until the pale boy conceded to tell him later. With that promise, Zambini turned to talk to a boy whose name Draco couldn't think of. Just as Draco managed to regain his arm from Pansy's iron grip, a plumpish girl with long, dark red hair and stormy gray eyes slid into a seat between Draco and Pansy.

"Hi," she said breathlessly, "I didn't miss the sorting, did I?" The girl asked as she glanced around at the other tables.

"Sorry," Draco murmured, confused, "You missed it..." he felt as though he knew her but could not remember the correct name, so he frowned, quirked one eyebrow, and left a pause for her to introduce herself.

"Oh," she smiled, no, she beamed, "I'm Roanoke LaMer, nice to meet you..." she paused just as he had, for him to give his name, as she put out a hand for him to take, which she let fall when he did not take the opportunity to shake hands.

"Draco Malfoy," Pansy finally supplied, "How could you not know?"

"Sorry, nice to meet you- err- Draco," Roanoke greeted as she turned to Pansy, "That sure is a lovely name-" but was cut off when Pansy sighed.

"Oh no, that's not _my_ name it's his, you should know that important people _never_ introduce themselves," the Slytherin girl replied snobbily, "I'm Pansy," she clarified before turning away.

Roanoke looked back to Draco before standing and retorting, "You must not be all that important then, huh?" She said, not rudely, just as though she was stating a fact, to Pansy who had glanced at her as she stood, and now wore an outraged face, then Roanoke sarcastically bowed at Draco with a wink.

"Your Highness," she smirked, then walked quickly off to the Ravenclaw table.

Blaise, who had watched the whole scenario play itself out, had a strange look of awe on his face. The dark skinned and haired boy turned slowly to his platinum blonde friend and said slowly,

"Wow, it takes a _lot_ to surprise me, but man, that girl's got guts!"

Draco nodded silently as he watched the girl who had called herself Roanoke converse with the Ravenclaws. Where had he seen her before? What was the other name he knew the girl by? Why did he know her? Why did he care? Just then, he saw her turn to him, from across the room, and send him a smile, the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed. It made him want to smile back and cry at the same time, but being a Malfoy, it would be proper to do neither, so he did the one thing he could think to do. Draco excused himself from the table and fled the Great Hall, praying to any God that would listen that Pansy wouldn't follow. Thanking Merlin that he had gotten his own room, being a Veela who had just come into his Inheritance, he sprinted down staircases to the Dungeons, taking two steps at a time. With so much on his mind, he did not see two shadows following him to his room.

Speaking the password, Draco stepped into his home, for Malfoy Manor was not a home, and it never would be, here was his home, at Hogwarts. Thinking over his encounter with Roanoke, who he had once known by a different name, he drifted to sleep, and dreamt of a girl called Rain.


	3. Halloween Part I

The next time Draco Malfoy saw the strangely beautiful Roanoke was at the Halloween Feast, but not for lack of trying. The eerily pale boy had tried, day after day since first meeting her to get in touch with her, or even just see her sitting at the Ravenclaw table. He still had not figured out how the girl was able to move from table to table, and not be attacked or get yelled at. Every time he had visited another table it had been to torment other students, but still, he had never, in all seven years of going to school at Hogwarts, seen a student who had friends in every house! At the Welcome Feast, almost two months ago, she had been able to sit at the Slytherin table without much trouble, then left, all of a sudden to go over to the Ravenclaws! They had seemed to know her, as the Slytherins had not, but still. Which house was her own?

_"Maybe she is an exchange student,"_ he thought, without much hope,_ "But then wouldn't she have introduced herself as such?"_ Draco decided with a frown. The girl would never make sense to him.

Somehow, his mind lurched from Roanoke to the subject of his heritage.

Surprisingly enough, he hadn't been jumped yet, despite his newfound magnificence. When Blaise had tried to seduce him though, he decided to tell his friend the truth. Together, he and Zambini had gone to the library and taken out every book on Veelas, even ones from the restricted section, with Snape's permission, of course. Supposedly, his Godfather had known the fact since Draco was small, and offered to help in any way he could. After researching Veela history, and reading every word on Veela mates, Draco went to Snape again to ask for an explanation.

)(FLASHBACK)(

"Severus?" The gray-eyed Adonis asked into the dank office.

"Yes, Draco? Can I help you?"

"Umm... Yes, I've been wondering, about this mate thing-" The mildly embarrassed teen was cut off by his teacher.

"Why you haven't found them yet?"

"Yes, sir," Draco confirmed meekly.

"It is possible that you have not met her, or him for that matter," Snape paused, and grimaced before continuing, "Or that they are not yet of age. But they are most likely at Hogwarts, where you've spent most of your life."

"So, they might be in another year?" Draco asked, and was answered by a curt nod. "But how will I _know_ when I find them? The books I've read are mostly about the bond after one meets their mate."

"Do you have any unexplained birthmarks?" Draco blinked at the unexpected query.

"Uh... yes, sir," Draco replied, unsure what the potions-master _wanted_ to hear.

"Good, very good," Snape reinforced, without giving justification.

"Sir?" Draco asked timidly, wondering what his birthmark had to do with anything.

"Oh," Snape looked up from the papers he had begun to grade, rather poorly one might add, and said, "If your mate has a rather obscure birth mark also, typically on an appendage such as a foot or hand, you shall forever mark each other." Snape finished in a bland tone, as though he found the whole thing quite boring.

"Sir, what do you mean by-" Draco was once cut off by Snape.

"I mean that you will acquire their mark, as they will yours," the professor clarified in a huff, "Now if you don't need anything else-?" Snape left the question open purposely, and blonde knew a dismissal when he heard it.

"Draco-"

"Hm?" The gray-eyed boy asked, confused.

"_I want to go dance!_" Pansy whined at the frankly bamboozled boy, who just then realized that he had been staring at the redhead talking animatedly to a few unidentified Gryffindors all through the duration of his flashback.

"Oh," the blonde in Slytherin green robes said mildly. Some wizarding band he didn't know the name of had been hired by Dumbledore to play for the feast. It was more like the Yule Ball than any feast he had ever been to, yet much more casual.

"Maybe later," Draco decided before walking toward the drink table, and consequently, Roanoke, leaving Pansy, pouting, looking for some idiot to dance with.

Draco tapped Roanoke on the shoulder, and she spun, astonished, and nearly spilled her Pumpkin juice over the both of them. The dress she was wearing was far too formal to be worn to a feast, and yet she somehow pulled off the electric blue gown quite nicely. Putting out his hand without a word, inviting her to come with him, wherever it was he was going, she submitted with just as few words, but a strange look, and followed him into the gardens that had been decorated with thousands of Faerie lights for the event. He got the surprise of his life when she slipped her arm out from his where their elbows had been locked, entwined her fingers with his, brought the back of his hand to her pink lips, kissed the knuckle of his left index finger and whispered,

"Good Luck!"

He was looking at her strangely still, but she paid the look no mind, hiked up her full skirt with her left hand to reveal bare feet, glanced briefly at him, and began to run.


	4. Halloween Part II

Last time:

_He got the surprise of his life when she slipped her arm out from his where their elbows had been locked, entwined her fingers with his, brought the back of his hand to her pink lips, kissed the knuckle of his left index finger and whispered,_

_"Good Luck!"_

_He was looking at her strangely still, but she paid the look no mind, hiked up her full skirt with her left hand to reveal bare feet, glanced briefly at him, and began to run._

Despite the fact that the girl had in no uncertain terms an athletic build, Draco soon found himself trailing behind the peculiarly striking girl. She was short in stature, perhaps five foot and one inch, at most and healthily curvy. The pale beauty's feet were pounding the dry earth in the same rhythm as the blonde Adonis'. Coming out of his stupor, Draco began to run, not because he had to, not for practice, but for the sheer joy of running. He soon caught up to her, and just as her was beginning to feel the same bliss he was certain was contained within her stormy gray eyes, Roanoke stopped. She stared up at the sky for long moments before Draco got the nerve to ask what she was doing.

"Roan-" she stopped him with a light touch on the arm before he could speak her entire name.

"Rain," she said simply, suddenly getting a feeling of deja vu, he began to get flustered and started to formulate a question when she finished, "It's coming."

"What!" Confusion was written all over the pale boy's face.

"I can smell it," she stated the fact, "It's coming."

"What's co-" he commenced, but suddenly terminated speech when he felt the first droplet on the knuckle of his index finger on the hand still clutched by hers.

"Rain," they spoke together, and he squeaked when she let go of his hand, eager for her touch, so warm. Instead of grasping his hand again, she pulled on the pinkie of his left hand until he held it out and then put her own around it as though they were making a pinkie swear as small children do. She looked up almost an entire foot into the face of Draco Malfoy, (who was between 5'11 and 6 feet) with such a tenderness he had never before seen, and Roanoke began to chant,

"Good luck, good will, good fortune, not ill," and repeated it slowly, for his sake, and kept going until he got it. There they were, standing in the middle of a garden, chanting a simple but in some way profound verse, over and over. The mantra became faster and faster, louder and louder, until the two were screaming the rhyme at the top of their lungs, as fast as their tongues would move, drenched by the downpour.

Suddenly, the pale girl sat, in the mud, her sopping skirts settled around her in the neatest fan she could manage with the far past damp material. Once she had placed her skirts and was sitting, her legs criss-crossed (Indian Style they called it in her Kindergarten class, or criss-cross applesauce) in the mud, Roanoke looked up at Draco expectantly. When he raised an eyebrow, she raised her hand to him as he had done earlier, inviting her to come with him, she was now bidding him to do the same, come with her, whatever that might entail. When he neither refused nor took the hand, she patted a relatively dry spot near her, beneath a large oak. Peering up at him through the rain, she beckoned him with her pointer finger and nodded her head toward the partially dry spot where her hand still resided.

Wondering what the hell he was doing, wrecking such expensive clothes by sitting in the mud with some girl he didn't even know, he slowly complied. After a moment of complete silence, the plump girl asked Draco what time it was. He was about to draw his wand and do a time-telling spell, when she said this:

"Never mind, Ace, I've got a watch," she stared at her wrist for a moment before seeming to remember that she would have to look through the plethora of bracelets on her left hand, she began to paw among them, in search of what she had called a watch. Draco watched with not quite heart-felt sneer at the thought that Roanoke may own muggle devices. Leaning into the blonde on her left, she held up her watch and said gleefully, "It's almost my birthday!"

"Really?" He asked rhetorically.

"Nope," she replied with enough sarcasm to drown a fish, "I lied." She finished with a smile as she looked up at his darkened form.

"It's almost midnight, and I turn 16 tomorrow!" Roanoke whispered, as though it was a secret, all sarcasm forgotten. Looking down at her watch, the girl who was still soaked to the skin began the count down "17... 16... 15... 14... 13..." Draco joined her in murmuring the numbers counting down to the next day at the number eleven, "10... 9... 8..." the two voices joined, barely audible beneath the wind and storm raging around them, "7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2...1..." the number zero was drowned out by howls of pain, both Roanoke and Draco clutched at themselves in pain, Roanoke the base of where he thumb and palm met on her left hand, and Draco his right ankle.

Hey... I know this is the first time I've written anything down here... I'm a first-timer with this stuff okay!  
Ummm... I know each chapter is horrifyingly short, but I will update quickly! I Promise!  
Uh... yea... moving on, please review, this is my FIRST EVER story and I love Roanoke to death! (Yay MY character!) She is based on my bestest friend, ;D, and um... yup... review... it's really bad, but I'll get over it!

Talk to you later! Thanks for reading thus far! I love you all! REVIEW!

dARWIN ;D (YES, I'm a girl... it's a nickname... get over yourself!)  
143  
PEACE AND LOVE!


	5. The Hospital Wing

Last time:

_Both Roanoke and Draco clutched at themselves in pain, Roanoke the base of where he thumb and palm met on her left hand, and Draco his right ankle._

Draco woke, after dreaming of a girl called Rain. Looking about himself in a pain-ridden daze, Draco wondered idly if he had died and gone to Heaven.

"_That can't be right,"_ the Slytherin thought,_ "No way am I fit to go to frickin Heaven. Now Rain, she could qualify for Heaven." _

Draco was roused by Madame Pomfrey, who gave him a Pepper Up Potion, and left abruptly without saying a word. Suddenly, Draco recalled last night.

_"Was it last night?" _Draco asked himself, though he had now way of knowing, him being the only one there. Remembering who he had been with that night, the Slytherin beauty glanced about the Medical Wing, and noted that only one other bed was occupied. The one inhabiting said cot was apparently still either passed out or asleep, hopefully the latter, and they seemed to have visitors. Listening to the conversation taking place next to him, Draco tried to get up, but was brought to a standstill by an abrupt pain in his ankle. Lifting his blankets, and trying his hardest to neither notify the visitors of his alertness nor cause himself extra pain, the Prince of Slytherin brought his throbbing ankle into his line of vision and noticed... nothing.

It was this nothing that disturbed Draco, for he normally had an s-curve of discolored, darker than normal skin there. At that point, he noted a faint aching in his left palm. There at the base of his thumb, was a star-shaped freckle, about one fourth of an inch across. The brown star was neither completely upright, with one point straight up, nor was it a demonic star, dubbed the 'Devil's Star' with two prongs up, and one directly down. This was someplace in between the two.

Despite how freaked out he was at the moment, Draco's cunning, ambitious, Slytherin side kicked in, and he tuned into the discussion behind the curtain next to him.

"Will she be all right?" Draco could have sworn it was Professor Snape's voice, were it not for the worry evident in it.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine, as will Draco." That was Dumbledore, he was sure of it.

"It's not him I'm worried about, he's a Veela, he's _made_ to take this kind of stress, she's not." There was the Snape-like intonation, but too much anxiety and apprehension.

"We should see if young Draco is awake Severus, he should be told what is going on." So it _was_ Snape, but he was too worried about Roanoke to care much that he had been right.

"_What the hell is going on!"_ Draco asked himself, but was unable to continue his mental rant as Dumbledore and a worn looking Professor Snape appeared from behind the curtain.

"Good morning Draco!" Dumbledore greeted, far too cheerfully for Draco's likes.

"Is that a statement or a question?" The tired and still sleep-rumpled blonde wondered under his breath, neither hoping for nor receiving an answer. What he did instigate though was a dark glare from his favorite teacher. Forgetting momentarily how frightfully tired he was, he asked Dumbledore (who he happened to abhor) how the girl in the bed next to his was. He received this answer:

"Draco, I am sure you must be exceedingly troubled by the events of the night before last, yes Draco, you slept a whole day," Dumbledore confirmed at the astonished look on the Slytherin boy's face, "But, you and Roanoke will both be fine." He finished with what he hoped was a comforting face and soothing tone. Though the facade was perfect and the voice flawless, Draco felt the anger, guilt and panic about to explode within the depths of his soul.

_"She's got to be okay,"_ the nearly colorless boy practically pleaded with his inner demons, _"She has to,"_ he reassured once again, before finishing, _"Because I lo-"_

_"WAIT!"

* * *

MUAHAHAHA!_

I am evil...

Cliffies are evil...

Too bad I'll ruin the cliffy when I update...

Hmmm...

No... I'll be nice...

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! (All five of you)

**Cataclysmic Silliness: **thanks! I will update :)

**brigette53: **I love Roanoke too! She is based on my best friend Natalia. I'll keep updating! I promise;)

**Heroine of the Valley: **I think there are male and female Veela, and they look basically the same, just like people. Here is where it gets interesting, Veelas mate for life, right? So is it possible that their mates could be wizards or muggles (or other Veelas)? Hm... (I've decided that it could be any of the above...)

**bloomsgurl992: **I'm so glad you can't wait!

**BetrayedVision:** sorry the chapters are so short, I have issues with them. They don't like me, but I try to do a lot of update at once, so it all kind of works out?


	6. Discovery

Last time:

"_She's got to be okay," the nearly colorless boy practically pleaded with his inner demons, "She has to," he reassured once again, before finishing, "Because I lo-"_

_"WAIT!"_

_"Oh no. I don't, do I! I don't lo... lo-" _Draco was unable to even _think_ the word, "_That must mean I don't, right?" _The Slytherin looked up, horrified, into the smiling (or smirking, in Snape's case) faces of his teachers and said mildly, "Oh no."

Dumbledore opened his mouth, about to speak, when a small noise came from the cot beside Draco's, the sound of someone waking. At the slight declaration of the girl's consciousness, Snape walked rapidly to the child's side.

_"Nuage, ou est Ciel?" _Roanoke spoke quietly, but beautifully.

"_Il est ici. Attends, mon amour," _Snape replied with the same volume, but Draco caught every word, and though he spoke no French, he got the gist of the conversation. He paid no mind to the actual expressions, just the voice behind the lovely words. He recognized the voice, twice. He had heard it before he met the girl near him, but somehow all the more far away.

_"Where?"_ Draco interrogated his memories. He knew, but could not find it.

Suddenly, with a rush of recognition, Draco understood.

_Rain._

_The girl, her long red hair flowing down her back. Somehow he knew her..._

"_Rain." _

_It seemed right._

_Beautiful eyes._

"She's my..."

"Draco?" The girl in question inquired at the sound of his voice, then pulled back the curtain obstructing the view of him, and the blonde boy gasped audibly. The Venus reincarnate in his sight was not the same girl he had run through the garden with two nights ago, that child had been lovely, yes, but this, this was beauty, pure, simple, and staring at him.

Roanoke had changed in his eyes, somehow. She was neither a child nor an imp. She was a goddess. The oddly named girl used to be round, short and mischievous. The spectacle before him was curvy, petite and curious. Her turbulent eyes no longer innocent and naive, but pure and not thus far jaded by the painful world, yet still much wiser than Draco would ever be. She was an angel, sent from Heaven. She was Heaven. Heaven on Earth. Even before the overwhelmed boy smelled the scent wafting through the air, his jaw had dropped as far as it could possibly go, but once he got a whiff of her rare perfume, he nearly died. By perfume, one expects some cheesy cologne reek, but this was different. It was not something the beauty _wore_, it _was_ her. The stench of rain, sweet and newly fallen, intermingling with pine and blueberry that created something wholly indescribable. Something told Draco's brain it was the smell of purple. The scent of his...

"Mate." The prince of Slytherin said without doubt. Roanoke, Draco's lifelong mate and true love gave the boy a strange look and then turned her attention back to Snape and asked in rapid French:

_"Qu'est-ce qu'il dit?"_

"Mate, you are his, I'm afraid," he replied to the confused and frankly frightened sixteen-year-old, "I'll explain soon. Both of you should get some sleep after what you've been through. When you wake, we shall have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore," Snape finished with a nod to the Headmaster. Had Draco or Roanoke been paying attention, they would both have detected worry and compassion in his voice, but Draco's senses were much too overloaded with the discovery of his mate to think clearly, and Roanoke far too confused. The emotion went unnoticed, but not by two shadows who quickly fled the premises whilst Snape and the Headmaster left.

The two soul mates glided to Dreamland. Once asleep, Roanoke dreamt of her childhood, and Draco once again had a dream with the girl Rain in it, but this time, her name was Roanoke.


	7. Disappointment

"_Mate, you are his, I'm afraid," he replied to the confused and frankly frightened sixteen-year-old, "I'll explain soon. Both of you should get some sleep after what you've been through. When you wake, we shall have a meeting with Professor Dumbledore," Snape finished with a nod to the Headmaster. Had Draco or Roanoke been paying attention, they would both have detected worry and compassion in his voice, but Draco's senses were much too overloaded with the discovery of his mate to think clearly, and Roanoke far too confused. The emotion went unnoticed, but not by two shadows who quickly fled the premises whilst Snape and the Headmaster left._

_The two soul mates glided to Dreamland. Once asleep, Roanoke dreamt of her childhood, and Draco once again had a dream with the girl Rain in it, but this time, her name was Roanoke. _

The dream, that had always been slightly frightening and horribly confusing, was now both comforting and troublesome. Draco woke anxious and glad. He had found his mate. Would she ever accept him? He wondered. He knew it was pivotal in his biography, vital to his survival. He knew, also, that everything would be all right, because he loved her, knew her. The run through the gardens and her one kiss to his hand was more satisfying than any fantasy he had lived or envisioned. She was there, and that was all that mattered.

Roanoke had gone up first to the Headmaster's office, probably so he could explain the situation without the lovesick Veela drooling over his mate. The boy was now following her footsteps, and scent, to Dumbledore's office. That is when he heard the most heart-wrenching sound. It was Roanoke, the eternal love of his life, crying. He knew exactly why too. It was him, all his fault, like everything that ever went wrong. She didn't want him, and never would. She probably had someone else, somewhere else, someone, and somewhere better. At that precise moment, with that revelation to bear with him, he turned and walked in the opposite direction. He wanted to comfort the weeping girl, but she would reject his comfort, as she had rejected the possibility of his love. Thinking this, he began to run, as swiftly as he could, as far as his legs would take him. He was strong from Quiddich, but he quickly tired and started then to notice the world around him.

Draco was now outside, and every piece of earth and stormy sky seemed to taunt the boy. The heavens were the exact color of her lovely, expressive eyes, and the earth was the same that her feet had trodden only nights ago. Reaching the Forbidden Forest, he paused, wondering if she would care if he died from the terrors contained within the trees. While he pondered, leaning up against a tall pine, he noted bits of dirt and grime that had accosted him and his uniform (which had somehow appeared next to his bed while he slept) as he ran. Draco closed his eyes and was abruptly surprised by a familiar voice. It was so beautiful, the pale boy was unsure if he could ever describe it in words. When he opened his eyes, an equally, if not more lovely sight swam into his line of vision, and what a sight it was.

Roanoke was calling his name. She had come looking for him when he had not shown up in the Headmaster's office, and was no longer occupying the Hospital Wing. Finally seeing him, she walked over and sat next to him, but not touching him. The Slytherin guessed that this was the fault of Dumbledore, as he had probably told her to try not to tempt him. Therefore, she neither touched him, nor looked at him, nevertheless, it was a companionable silence, rather than an awkward one.

Without warning, the girl said, "This is going to be strange for a while isn't it?" Draco replied with a nod, not trusting himself to speak, though his long, pale artist's fingers itched to touch her, as they had itched to console her not long ago. Silence once again reigned.

Finally, Roanoke asked, "Why did you run off like that?"

"You were crying," he replied simply.

"Oh," she still was not looking at him, but he could sense her embarrassment.

"Does Dumbledore still want to talk to us?" Draco asked after another moment of silence.

"Yes," Roanoke replied as though she was contemplating something, "But I want us to talk first."

"Oh," it was Draco's turn to respond, "What about?" She gave him a hard, assessing look before telling him he knew exactly what she was speaking of. Still, the smothering silence regained its hold on the two.

Roanoke sighed after a moment, then whispered, unsure of herself, "How can we be soul mates if you don't love me enough while we're strangers to even talk to me?" It was then that Draco's pale, metallic orbs acquired a strange glow, in most it might be called 'hope', but this was much more intense.

"You mean you're willing to try?" Draco asked, his hope shining through as much as he tried to suppress it.

"Of course," The girl replied matter-of-factly, "I'll try anything once, and sometimes twice, but that's not why I'm doing this," she hastily confirmed when she noticed the hope on his face wither, "I'm doing it because I already love you to some extent. The night before my birthday, in the gardens, was wonderful," Roanoke said dreamily, "I like you, and I'm willing to try, but just because I like you," the strange beauty established, "Does not, I repeat, _does not_, mean I'm going to sleep with you tonight, or any time in the near future."

* * *

Hey! Thanks for being patient everybody!

Cookies to anyone and everyone who reviewed! Keep it up ;)!

dARWIN ;D


	8. Shoes

Last time:

"_I like you, and I'm willing to try, but just because I like you," the strange beauty established, "Does not, I repeat, does not, mean I'm going to sleep with you tonight, or any time in the near future."_

Disappointment flooded all of Draco's features.

"But what about the bond? I have to-"

"I know all about the bond, and you won't die if you don't complete it soon, Ace," Roanoke interrupted, "Just unhappy." Draco pouted a bit about the statement, and knew it was true, but no bond was better than nothing, and if it made her content, he was satisfied... for now at least. He could make seduction plans later, now he felt the need to revel in his mate's presence. Looking upon the near deity was all he ever needed, as long as he could see her face or touch her hand, there was no need for possessions or food, or water. Just her attendance was all he desired. His staring had unnerved her and without words she turned toward him.

"Why have I never noticed you before now?" The Slytherin asked.

"How often is it that you look at a man's shoes?" She replied with no explanation.

"Excuse me?" He inquired, politely stating his puzzlement.

Roanoke simply stood, brushed off her bottom, looked to the horizon and said, "Figure it out," before walking back to the school.

Draco glared at the same horizon, seeing nothing that would give him an answer, and then scrambled to his feet in hot pursuit of his mate.

* * *

Draco finally caught up with the remarkably fast girl in the corridor next to the one containing Dumbledore's office, and that seemed to be the direction in which they were heading.

"You really aren't going to make me speak to that old fool about this mess are you?" The Veela asked his mate, exasperated. Roanoke's eyes flashed with some unknown emotion and she slapped Draco, hard, across the right cheek. Seeming surprised with her own actions, Roanoke looked from her left hand to where that hand had hit the boy.

"I'm sorry," she apologized softly, "I didn't mean to do that. But you shouldn't talk about him like that."

With due regret, Roanoke reached up the same appendage that had hit the Slytherin with such force and violence a mere moment ago, and stroked the angry red mark she had left. Caressing the hurt cheek, and the other also, Roanoke reached behind the tall boy's neck and pulled his face down to her level, so that she could plant a soft kiss on the injury.

Not, once again, trusting his own voice, Draco took the kiss with a smile and a nod, all while his insides were burning with passion and his mind dizzying out of control from such an unadorned gesture of love, motherly and sweet. They reached the door to Albus Dumbledore's office a meager few seconds later, and Draco's consciousness still to befuddled to notice that the Gargoyle guarding the door to the Headmaster's office jumped to one side, admitting the two, without either of them repeating the password.


	9. Upset

Last time:

_They reached the door to Albus Dumbledore's office a meager few seconds later, and Draco's consciousness still to befuddled to notice that the Gargoyle guarding the door to the Headmaster's office jumped to one side, admitting the two, without either of them repeating the password._

As the revolving staircase took the pair upward, Draco clutched his cheek, hoping it was fading and wishing it would forever mar his beautiful features. Opening the door to the Headmaster's office, Roanoke beamed at Draco, then turned back to see Dumbledore himself at his desk.

_"Ciel, Hiver est ici,"_ the oddly attractive girl informed the old man in purple robes.

Looking up, the man graced his features with a smile and invited them to sit. When Draco looked inquiringly at his Headmaster, asking the elder with his eyes what had been said about him, Dumbledore smiled again, his eyes twinkling, and replied to the unasked question, "Ask her yourself Draco."

"Hm?" The girl in question asked with a small noise, recognizing she was being discussed.

"What did you say to him?" The Slytherin blonde whispered at her.

"Oh," Roanoke comprehended, "All I said was that you were here."

"My mother speaks a bit of French, and that's not what you said," Draco argued in a hushed tone as the Headmaster shuffled papers.

With a soft smile, Roanoke simply murmured, "I'll explain later, okay?"

Unable to disagree, the Veela merely pouted and acquiesced her request. Turning back to Dumbledore, Draco abruptly realized that he would have to converse about _the bond_ with the old man.

_"Oh no,"_ he thought,_ "As if it wouldn't be bad enough to have to talk about it with her, but no, we all have to confer."_

At that precise moment, Severus Snape walked through the office door.

* * *

Finally the conference was over and Draco was able to leave and talk in private with his mate. The discussion had not been as bad as the Slytherin had thought it would be, but there had been many a blush upon his cheeks (Slytherins_ don't_ blush), and many an awkward pause. Thankfully he knew most of what Dumbledore told him, except a few tidbits strictly about part-Veela.

Stepping off of the revolving staircase, Draco heard a laugh. It was not the musical voice of his mate, and yet it was so recognizable. Whirling around, the Slytherin saw before him his arch nemesis, or who had been before the last war, one Harry Potter, who was now hugging his mate. After a moment, Roanoke released the boy wonder and laughed.

"Long time, no see, eh Potter?" She asked playfully.

"Far too long, m'dear," he replied just as teasingly. The two friends would have gone on in their light-hearted conversation, had it not been for an odd growl erupting from the blonde behind the couple.

"Oh," Roanoke said, cringing, "I completely forgot to introduce you two," she finished cheerfully, completely oblivious to the identical murderous looks on the enemies' faces. Looking to her feet, the short girl put both of her hands out, palms up, one toward each boy standing on either side of her.

"Draco, this is Ha-"

"I know."

The snarling cutoff surprised the girl, and she glanced at Draco's angered face with a questioning look.

"We've known each other for some time," Harry retorted in a cold voice.

"Harry, I didn't know you knew Draco," Roanoke tried again, confused.

"I didn't know you knew him either," Harry cut back with ice in his voice, "I'll see you later."

He turned and walked away without so much as a glance behind him. The girl, still in a bit of a befuddled daze, stared after him for a moment before turning back to her mate, to see him already half down the hall.

* * *

Draco fumed. Harry and _his_ mate. The world was completely wrong and upside-down. His vision turned crimson as he stalked down the hall to his private dorms. The Veela faintly heard a voice call to him. He wanted, _needed_ to let that melodious speech drag him from his rage induced darkness, but he was too far under to be reached. It was if a sinister undertow had taken him with no struggle on his part, he had no desire to be free, except from the hand that reached out to grab his robes in an attempt to bring him to halt. About to shake off the pale hand, he stopped, and blinked. The touch was so warm, comforting, a thing he had never felt from his own parents. Draco turned to take in her lovely face, and all he could think was, _"She doesn't love me. She wants Harry Potter."_

The rage returned, with slightly less force, to the Veela's eyes.

"What was that about? How could you have tricked me like that? You love him don't you?" A thousand questions were expelled from his mouth.

"No," came the muffled answer.

"What?"

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?"

The blonde was about to refuse and demand every answer, when he noticed the pleading in her voice and eyes.


	10. Explanations

Last Time:

"_Can we go somewhere else to talk?"_

_The blonde was about to refuse and demand every answer, when he noticed the pleading in her voice and eyes._

Draco was worried. He looked at his mate and saw a girl he had never met. She was shy and fidgety, and worried about something. She took a deep breath.

"Ask me."

"What?" She was so straightforward it was bamboozling.

"I said, ask me," Roanoke repeated bravely, and tilted her chin up.

"Ask you what?"

"A moment ago you had so many questions, now I am ready to give answers."

They had been standing just inside the door of his beautiful room, decked out in green and silver and black. Very sophisticated, very Slytherin. Draco suddenly decided that maybe they should sit down for such a serious talk. There were things he needed to know. The blonde pulled his wand from his robes and waved it, doing a complex light spell. Roanoke blinked in surprise and turned to him before following him to his equivalent of a common room.

The room into which she had allowed herself to be lead was warm and homey, despite the coloring. It seemed that Draco either was, or had a very good home designer. The pale beauty giggled, guessing that it was the latter. The blonde Adonis turned to her, his silver orbs probing her face, but she merely dismissed his unspoken question with a wave of her hand. Finishing her laughing fit, Roanoke peered into the next room as Draco started the fire with a wave of his wand, behind her.

The area that the plump girl found herself inspecting happened to be Draco's bedroom. It was impeccably cleaned, like the rest of his not-so-humble-abode. Seeing this, and a large, comfortable-looking bed, Roanoke ran in.

* * *

­­­­­­­­­­­When Draco had finished primping his living space so it was, well, inhabitable, he turned to find his mate – gone. He had called her name a good five times in his feverish panic, when he eventually heard a contented humming coming from his bedroom.

Although he was worried sick about the girl who had mysteriously disappeared, not only because she was missing in action, but also because of her earlier actions. She had been acting strangely ever since they had met up with the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. The silver-eyed demi-god peered around the doorframe with every possible caution. This was quickly put at ease by the sight that met his eyes. There, flung across his bed, was Roanoke, sleeping. She hummed as she slept, though he was unsure how. He remembered once, when he was a child, he had seen a muggle boy and girl use the same tone to get a Periwinkle to come out of it's shell while down at the beach. It was a comforting tone, and his fingers itched to touch its source.

The Slytherin toed off his shoes and walked across the plush carpet, thinking back on their past conversation about shoes, wondering where she got that stuff. Draco could walk stealthily as a cat when he needed to, but it seemed around her, even whilst she slept, he was loud and clumsy and inarticulate. These qualities were not helpful when trying to keep from waking a sleeping person. The blonde soon discovered though, that Roanoke could probably sleep through a bomb (as she would admit later to have done). This knowledge was only revealed, unfortunately, after the usually graceful boy had tripped over both of his shoes, his own pant leg and a chair, making a nice racket.

After an eternity (or so it seemed to Draco), the molten-eyed boy sat on the bed next to his mate. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco had reached out and placed a piece of Roanoke's fiery hair behind an ear, where it so rightfully belonged. He so wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to take her, but he knew better. She would never be his if he didn't let her take her own time. Sighing, Draco cupped her cheek in one hand and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. When the Slytherin pulled away, he saw two stormy gray eyes staring up at him, but not protesting, never protesting.

"Ow," the girl said simply, her eyebrows knitted together.

"What?" The confused boy asked, expecting some sort of romantics, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but a warning to you," she replied, sitting up, "Never, _never_ fall asleep with contacts in."

Draco's mate rushed off to the Slytherin's personal bath, pulling out some sort of case as she went. The Veela just sat there, pulled his legs up and crossed them under his bottom and wondered, _"What's a contact?"_

When Draco heard Roanoke begin to speak to herself and other inanimate objects, as well as the 'contacts', he decided to peek in and see what exactly she was fighting against. Peering into the much to brightly lit bathroom, Draco found himself staring at a very strange scene indeed. This included one girl, one mirror, one contact in its case, one finger poking around one eye, and one contact behind Roanoke's eye.

"Argh!" The girl grumbled, her left eye closed and the other squinting in pain. She began to stomp about, muttering angrily about 'damn contacts', 'stupid eyes' and 'fricking beds' that induced 'fricking sleep'. Draco almost began to laugh. Almost, being a key word, because it was really rather frightening.

* * *

It was a good ten minutes later, and quite a few cusses later as well. Draco had eventually managed to _accio_ the contact out of Roanoke's eye, much to her displeasure, because, from what he gathered, it felt _'ewwy'_. Now the girl was reclining on Draco's bed, her contacts both in their case, and her glasses safely on her face. He was next to her, but carefully not touching her, as he didn't want to get... let's just say, out of control. The pale girl rolled over on the huge bed, turning toward the Veela.

"Do you still want to ask?" Roanoke inquired nervously.

"Do you still want to tell me?" The gray-eyed boy asked back, trying to mask his need for information.

"Yes," she looked at her toes, "You deserve to know."

Draco looked at the uneasy girl expectantly, but when she wasn't forthcoming with information, he, daringly, placed two fingers beneath her chin and forced her to stare him down.

"Do you want to tell me?" The Prince of Slytherin asked again.

Roanoke made no answer, but didn't look away either. Instead, she bit her lip in an innocent, but enticing gesture. This tiny thing nearly drove Draco crazy; it was almost physically difficult to resist the urge to touch her skin, shining in the moonlight from his spelled window in the Dungeons. Finally, with a deep, unsure breath, she captured his lips in a kiss. It was chaste and sweet, but the part-Veela was overcome with passion and love and quickly deepened the kiss. After a moment, Roanoke reluctantly pulled away, leaving a disappointed Draco half-sitting, half-lying next to her. Roanoke took yet another deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm a muggle."

* * *

YAY! secret is out!  
How will Draco take it! 


	11. Explain

I'm sorry, what?" Draco quickly came out of his euphoric daze, unsure if he had heard the girl correctly.

"I'm a muggle," Roanoke confirmed, never looking at him.

"But, how-? How is it-? What about?"

"Let me explain," the strange beauty began, reaching out to touch him comfortingly.

"No," he pulled away, "Why didn't you tell me? Why are you here? This is all wrong."

He continued muttering while standing up and getting off of the bed. Finally, he turned back to her to see tears streaming silently down her face. Roanoke wiped the tears from her face ashamedly.

"_She looks like a child who has lost a teddy bear,"_ remarking on the forlorn look upon his love's face, before shaking the thought from his mind and turning his back to her again. He took one last look at the pleading on her face, and then stalked silently out of his rooms.

It was late. He knew not exactly how late, just that it was dark. He heard footsteps behind him but paid them no mind. He whirled angrily when a hand clasped his shoulder from behind. The girl he was now facing was bespectacled and scrawny. He glared at the tiny thing before turning on heel and skulking away.

"Wait!"

Draco turned once again, this time ready to curse the girl. She took one look at his wand and stepped closer, her eyes flashing. The part-Veela blinked. He had been expecting her to run off with one sneer or death-glare. One, apparently, can't judge a book by its cover. Draco looked down his nose at the petite girl, who was no more than 4'9, and could easily have been mistaken for a second year. He dimly remembered her though; she was a Ravenclaw, a year behind him, the same age as Roanoke. He pushed the thought from his mind, not wanting to think about _her_.

"What do you want?" Draco sneered and asked icily.

"What did you do to her?"

"To who, the muggle?" He spat the word.

The girl smacked her forehead and muttered 'idiot' faintly for a few moments, before looking back to the tall blonde.

She stared him straight in the eye and said, coldly, "Idiots, both of you. I don't know how it is that the great Charles Darwin has not yet exterminated you."

Draco mildly raised a pale eyebrow in response, too confused to say much. The pint-sized girl sighed deeply before grabbing the Veela's hand and dragged him to a nearby and convenient classroom.

Sitting down on a desk, the gray-eyed boy realized that he had no real clue as to who this person was, or what she wanted.

"Who are you?" He asked uncomfortably, as soon as he worked up his normal amount of courage.

"Oh," she smacked her forehead again, causing her hair to fly about her face as she shook her head, "So sorry, I'm Mace Automne Winifred Tree Waverly Salis."

"I'm very sorry, but I can't remember which one came first, what do I call you?"

She sighed, "You can call me Explain, it's easier, my parents went a little wild with the whole name thing, I can't even remember the order, so usually I just pick one to go by. This week it's either Mace or Explain, but Explain is permanent."

"Oh."

"Yea, are you okay?" The diminutive girl with far too many names asked, looking at the paler than usual boy. He looked sick.

"Yes, fine, just... confused," he replied with a sigh and a pleading look. The Veela obviously needed to talk, to let it all out.

Explain jumped up next to him on the desk and shook her hair out of its ponytail, which was when he noticed its color. He had not been aware of its hue due to the poor lighting. Now, in better light, he saw that it was a deep green. She put up a slim, tiny, artist's hand and pulled a strand of hair from her face, revealing many piercings when she tucked it behind her ear. The simple gesture also caused her large, faded and stained sweatshirt to fall back from her wrist, showing a collection of bracelets much like Roanoke's own.

"You want to tell me why I just found Roanoke coming out of your rooms, sobbing?"

Draco heaved a sigh.

"She told me she was a muggle."

"Really?" Mace inquired rhetorically, surprised, then mumbled, "It took me weeks to get that out of her."

She looked back to the boy on her left. "Why was she crying? Why did she tell you?"

"We have a-" he paused, and finished a bit coldly, "Strange relationship."

"Oh yea, she's your mate and you're a Veela right?"

Draco blinked, how had Explain known, had Roanoke told anybody? When did she have time?

As if she had read his mind, or his face, Mace said, "Don't worry, it's not all over Hogwarts or anything. Dumbledore told me," she finished indifferently.

"Why you?"

"Because I'm her best friend dumb-ass."

Draco was startled by the sudden and casual insult, he growled. Mace merely elbowed him in the ribs and said to stop it. The blonde Slytherin had never before met someone who was so- frank.

"What's wrong with you?" The green eyed and haired girl asked rudely.

"What do you mean," Draco was indignant, there was nothing wrong with him.

"You know what I mean. She finds out that she's some weird magical creature's mate- for life nonetheless- and that same day, because she trusted you, against _all_ of my warnings, she told you her second biggest secret. So what do you do? You're mean to her, make her cry, and now I have to beat you up!"

Draco disregarded the threat and asked "Second biggest secret? There's a bigger one!"

Explain's eyes widened, "You never heard me say that."

"Yes I did-"

"Nope, you didn't, I'm working my Jedi magic on you, so pretend it's working!" The odd girl hissed this message. "Now do you want to talk or not?"

"Of course I do, it's just-"

"Then get your coat."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to hold palaver."


	12. Palaver

Last Time:

"_Now do you want to talk or not?"_

"_Of course I do, it's just-"_

"_Then get your coat."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because we're going to hold palaver."_

Outside it was chilly and there was no moon to be seen. It felt strange to be tugged along by the petite girl with dark green hair almost down to her waist. Where Roanoke's hand had felt so perfect in his own, Mace's now felt strange and wrong, utterly wrong. Yet the tall boy allowed himself to be pulled by the remarkably strong girl, hoping to gain some answers beneath the starlit sky.

Explain stopped abruptly by the lake. As Roanoke, Draco's mate, had done, not so long ago in time, but it had been eternities in terms of emotion, Mace plopped herself on the ground, disregarding all of the mud and such. Again, reminding him so much of his love, the teeny girl reached up toward him to invite him to sit. This time he did with no other cajoling, the hope of answers bringing him to sit in the mud.

Explain stared up at the sky and recited, "I looked at what he built, and to me it explained the stars."

It sounded akin to something his stormy-eyed mate would say. They were so alike, but so wholly diverse. He liked the girl, in a strange way; he wanted to protect her, like a brother, though he doubted the feisty girl would allow him, or anyone, to protect her. He turned toward her, to take in her features, as she gazed across the lake. Mace yanked off her glasses and rubbed her eyes fiercely before replacing them and she stared across the lake to the opposite bank. "She told me once, that all she wanted was to be like her parents used to be-"

"Used to be?"

"Let me finish," was the tired warning. "She wanted to have friends, meet someone. Love someone. Have someone, somebody, anybody. She doesn't care what people look like, what they've done. I mean, look at me, would you randomly befriend me?" When he shook his head, she continued, "Look at you, the son of dead Death-Eaters, the Ice Prince of Slytherin, she gave you a chance when no one else would. I don't even think that she believes the rumors that all of the Malfoys were Death-Eaters. Harry and I warned her to stay away from you, that you were no good. Then I found out that you were soul mates," the way Explain said that word made Draco shiver and feel multitudes of guilt. "You complete each other. That is what a soul mate is. You can't just desert her now, not when she trusted you. You can't. You just _can't_. It's not _right_. It's not _fair_."

"But she's a muggle."

"And you can't get past what she is for true love?"

"But-"

"Do you like me?"

"As what? A friend, I barely know you, but yes," this was getting so confusing. She kept changing the subject.

"How much?"

"What do you mean?"

"How much do you like me? Scale of one to ten, one you hate me, ten you love me like the sister you never had."

"Eight," he decided.

"I'm muggle-born."

The blonde blinked in surprise. "Now? How much do you like me now?"

"No less, but that's diff-"

"No, it isn't. It is no different. You should love her for who you know her to be, not who her parents were."

With that statement, Explain decided that the conversation was over and walked back to the castle without giving him time to respond. He watched as her tiny form melded slowly with the shadows.

* * *

It had taken him a moment to gather his thoughts and follow the petite girl. As soon as he caught up he made a decision.

"Where's her room?"

"I'll take you there."

* * *

Draco was now standing outside Roanoke's dorm. Written on his hand with Mace's pen was the phrase _Day Blind Stars_. He had no idea what it meant, only that it was his only way to get to her. Explain told Draco that his mate's door had an override code as well as the password that Roanoke could change at will. She had trusted the Slytherin, knowing who he was, with her best friend's heart.

The part Veela looked from his hand to the painting on the wall many times. The paining seemed to be empty, but he could sense someone watching him. Mace had said that he didn't need to deal with the nymph who apparently inhabited the painting. He only had to place his hand on the door and speak the phrase to be admitted. Draco followed his instructions and was surprised to find them working. Supposedly Roanoke had come up with the system so Mace and Dumbledore wouldn't have to remember her frequently changed password.

The sliver-eyed Slytherin entered with caution. No matter how much the girl had liked him before, she was sure to now hate him or at least be angry enough to get revenge. Walking farther into the small rooms, he came to a diminutive living room with noting more than a couch and a plushy chair before the fireplace. The room was cramped but not due to a serious lack of space, of which she had plenty for just the furniture, the bookcases were the problem. Along each wall were mismatched bookcases of every size and shape imaginable. The girl had volumes upon volumes of books, all muggle ones. Draco bit back a sneer at the thought, and tried to remember why he was here. He had to find his mate and make things right with the smoky-eyed being.

The boy continued on his way, stepping over piles of books as he went. Finally he made it to the other end of the smallish room, where a mahogany door resided. It was fancy and clashed with the random comfort of the rest of the room's clutter, but it was still lovely. Draco guessed that it was hand carved and had probably been in the doorframe where it was now since the beginning of Hogwarts. It had tiny figures carved upon it, participating in some activity. The Veela decided that later he would have to take a longer look; right now the only thing occupying his mind was Roanoke.

Draco turned the doorknob as quietly as he could manage, and opened the door without it producing a single squeak. Peering into the dimly lit room, Draco did not immediately see anyone. Looking closer, he saw Roanoke curled up on the window seat, with a pencil in one hand, and a sketchbook in the other. It seemed as though she hadn't noticed his breaking and entering until she muttered a soft, "Hi." Draco, who had been gazing about at the sketches and half-read book strewn across the floor, table and bed, nearly jumped five feet in the air. He looked back at her and noted that she was wearing an overly large bright green sweatshirt with some sort of turtle with ninja gear on it's front. He was so occupied with its bright, 'in-your-face'-ness that he almost didn't realize that beneath it she wore nothing but her underwear. Draco gulped audibly.

"Hi." Roanoke stood, completely unaware of her dress, or lack-there-of, and seemed entirely comfortable with the situation. Draco however, was another story totally. When she had stood, he had not missed the fact that her sweatshirt only came halfway down her milky thighs. Draco had turned, wanting to save her embarrassment as much as his own. At that sight a hot rush of passion had gone through him and concentrated in one place. He was blushing furiously, a thing a Malfoy never does, though he didn't much care for Malfoy tradition anymore.

"Turn around," the icy voice was so unfamiliar, he had heard a rendition of it the night he had talked badly about Albus Dumbledore, but it wasn't nearly as intense with its near hatred. This so surprised Draco that for a split second he had almost followed her command.

"You aren't decent. It would be improp-"

"To Hell with what is proper. I need to talk to you." Roanoke was directly behind him. She pressed up against him and hugged him from behind. It was exactly what he didn't expect her to do. He didn't move, wondering about ulterior motives. Then he heard her sniffle. Draco pulled out of her grasp, whipped around and hugged her back, no longer caring for any hidden intention Roanoke might have. She needed to be comforted. The part-Veela picked the sobbing girl up in his arms bridal-style, and brought her over to her own bed. Draco sat on her bed with his back against the wall that the bed shared with a table. Roanoke curled herself up in his lap and cried.


	13. Truth

_She needed to be comforted. The part-Veela picked the sobbing girl up in his arms bridal-style, and brought her over to her own bed. Draco sat on her bed with his back against the wall that the bed shared with a table. Roanoke curled herself up in his lap and cried._

An hour or so later of deep conversation, Draco felt worse than he thought he'd ever felt before. He had been angry at the beautiful girl he loved for no real reason other than the prejudices he had forced on him by his tyrannical father. Now, after hearing the terrors that were Roanoke's life, he couldn't even consider being the least bit upset with her for something she could not change, something that wasn't necessarily bad.

She was finally asleep from having expended so much emotional energy, and he was glad that she was. He wasn't pleased about her resting state because it took effort to comfort her, but because the sentimental strength she was expending to tell him everything she needed to know was beginning to take a toll on her. Even asleep she looked worn, like a refugee sent from their war-torn home.

Thinking more in this metaphor, he supposed she was a bit of a refugee, sent from her dwelling to a new and unfamiliar place where she didn't and probably would never fit in. He sighed. It was no wonder that Roanoke seemed so strong and wise, as she had gone through so much in her relatively short life. If he had gone through what she had, he doubted he would have survived, much less have been able to be as happy as Roanoke appeared to be.

He patted her hair adoringly and thought back to her confessions.

)(FLASHBACK)(

"_Please, Roanoke.." He begged, "Stop crying." She continued to sob, but was obviously trying to calm herself down. It was true that he was upset with the understanding that she was a muggle, much less a pureblood. He had been raised to hate anyone with muggle heritage. He'd never even thought about muggles with anything but distain, nor had he even imagined that one might be his mate._

_Finally, she was composed enough to talk. "I'm sorry. I should've told you. Or maybe I shouldn't have. I didn't mean for it to happen this way, really I didn't."_

"_Roanoke, listen.."_

"_Don't worry about it. I understand that you don't like muggles," she spat the word as if it were poison on her tongue, "so I suppose you'll just have to go through life without a mate. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to happen this way, I swear.."_

_Draco was simply astonished by these words. Go on through life without a mate? Never have love when he knew it was right in front of him? How shallow did she really think he was? She continued to apologize, trying to make plans that would fix the situation so that he wouldn't have to love her, and finally, knowing that it might be the only thing to reassure her, he kissed her._

_Fireworks exploded behind his eyes as his lips touched her tear-soaked ones. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever felt. At that very moment, he realized that no matter who or what she was, no matter how many times she wronged him in the future, they _were_ soul mates. They were simply meant to be together, plain and simple. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it._

_Pulling away from the kiss, he looked into her flabbergasted, beautiful, grey eyes which held so dear, and said, for the first time in his life, "I love you."_

_Again she started to weep, and told him about her entire life - her parents, Voldemort, her brothers. The LaMer family was the only muggle family in all of England to know anything about the existence of magic, and she was the only sane one._

_Her father was a high government official, very close to the Prime Minister. When large issues came up in the wizarding world, sometimes the effects crept into non-magic life. That's where Paul LaMer came into the picture. He and the Prime Minister dealt with anything magical in the muggle world. They were the only ones permitted to know the truth for safety's sake. Mr. LaMer trusted his wife and family with every single trouble in his mostly happy life. The husband and wife had been high school sweet-hearts, and best friends since they were seven, and told each other everything. Thus, the LaMers became the only muggle family with connections or knowledge about the wizarding world. Tragically, Voldemort found out who the muggles were who knew about him and were helping to catch him and to keep the non-magic world safe from him._

_On Roanoke and her twin brother Lyndsey's eighth birthday, the two of them got into their first ever fight. About what, it is not important. What is important, however, is that Roanoke left, hid in the woods for a few hours, fuming, crying and forgetting her anger at her twin brother and best friend. Soon it was dark and her anger was completely dead, as was half of her family she would soon find. When she got in view of her small home, she saw a skull with a serpent protruding from the mouth hanging over the ruins. Terror-stricken, the young girl ran inside and found her parents and her oldest twin brothers dead, and Topher and 'Liam completely insane. Voldemort and his followers had done exactly what he'd done to Neville Longbottom's parents to Roanoke's ten and eleven year old brothers – not to get information, but for the sheer delight he took in their pain. He had put them under the Cruciatus curse so many times for such and extended period of time that their minds simply couldn't take it and they went insane._

_Lyndsey, though, was nowhere to be found. Whether that was a good or bad thing, Roanoke wasn't sure. Later, after checking all of his hiding spots, and once help had come, everyone became suddenly convinced that Lyndsey must have been taken by the Dark Lord himself._

As he thought of this, his heart burst with sorrow for the girl sleeping in his arms. Regrettably, Draco knew that this would not be the end of Roanoke LaMer's trouble.


	14. Protection

_Draco's heart burst with sorrow for the girl sleeping in his arms. Regrettably, Draco knew that this would not be the end of Roanoke LaMer's trouble._

When she awoke, her story continued to how she had come to be the resident muggle at Hogwarts. Not that anyone knew she was a muggle though. To the students, she was Dumbledore's niece who went to Beauxbatons, but could apparate and so visited her favorite – and only – uncle daily. Though she was there on a daily basis, most students rarely saw her, if they ever caught a glimpse at all. She only made herself known at school events, such as sortings and feasts. Other than that, she was generally occupied.

When Draco looked at her inquisitively, as if wondering what else she would do than go to classes, she ignored the look and kept talking. She had her own room, but nobody except a few close friends knew where it was. These devoted acquaintances were mostly males to Draco's chagrin. Besides Explain, there was Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan and the Weasley twins - Gryffindors. Then there was Cable Roofe and Jadon Heard, two Hufflepuffs; from Ravenclaw there was Ceron Fernald, Weylin Cullen and Rogene Earnest. She had no friends from Slytherin at all. She tried to avoid them at all costs, besides Draco of course. They tended to be rather unfriendly. Last but not least, Roanoke was best friends with Explain.. And Harry Potter.

The fact that nearly all of Roanoke's friends were guys meant next to nothing when compared with the fact that the boy she was closest to was his enemy, Harry Potter.

Trying to get his mind off the subject, Draco had asked why she had come to stay at the magical school at all.

"It just doesn't make sense," he said, "I mean, don't you have any family at all?"

"Well," she replied sadly, "Not really. We were the last of the LaMers, besides a random cousin here or there. I've known Dumbledore forever. He's like a second father to me. I- I- I really had nowhere else to go." She seemed to be on the verge of tears again when all of a sudden she sat up straight with a fierce look and finished, "And he's the only one who could protect me if Voldemort figures out he didn't get all of us. And he probably already knows anyhow... Having Topher and all..." Again she looked upset, but with a worn strength which must've been what kept her going all these years.

"Well now you have me too."

"What?" She looked at him skeptically.

"You heard me. I'll protect you. With everything I have and more, I swear I'll protect you."

"That's sweet and all Draco, but..."

"What? What's wrong? You don't have to stay here where you don't belong. We could go where ever you wanted to go! I just have to finish this year of school and then we're out of here!"

"No, Draco, you don't get it. I can't leave. I'm not sure I would even if I could."

"Why can't you leave?" Frustrated and confused, Draco peered into her face for the answer.

"This is where my family is," she replied quietly, almost shyly.

"Oh," he understood, "you mean Dumbledore and Potter and all the rest. I get it."

"No," she chuckled unhappily, "no, you don't get it. I meant my family. My honest-to-god, blood-is-thicker-than-water family. That's what I do in all my time here. I go visit the only muggles at St. Mungo's. 'Liam and Topher, my brothers."


	15. Breakfast

"_No," she chuckled unhappily, "no, you don't get it. I meant my family. My honest-to-god, blood-is-thicker-than-water family. That's what I do in all my time here. I go visit the only muggles at St. Mungo's. 'Liam and Topher, my brothers."_

_Oh, god, what do I say to that?_ A baffled Draco wondered. "Oh." Apparently that was the answer.

"Uh, sorry. I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry... I just... I don't even know why I said that. I really shouldn't have... I-"

"Stop. No, I'm glad you told me. I want you to tell me everything, eventually. I just never really thought about the possibility that they... Well, that they-"

"Were still alive?" She asked almost impishly.

"Er, yeah. Maybe... Uhm, maybe sometime... We could go see them? Together?"

She sat up slowly and wondered, "Are you sure? Do you really want to go there?"

_No. No I'm not sure._ "Yes. Of course. I'd go anywhere with you."

She smirked and responded with a simple, "Tomorrow, then." And with that she curled back up into a ball and said, "Let's go back to sleep." With a small smile. With a huge grin of his own, he snuggled up to her and the two of them fell asleep with their limbs and hearts entwined.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Roanoke awoke from her satisfying slumber, she was disappointed to find herself alone. Perhaps Draco had chickened out about the whole St. Mungo's thing, not that she blamed him, but he could've left a note or something!

It was at that exact moment that Roanoke looked down at her hand and saw a note jotted there, straight on the skin of her palm.

It read:

_R-_

_Went to room to make breakfast, join when you wake up._

_Password – Annelise Chancellor Razi_

_L,_

_DM_

She found it quite adorable that he refused to write the word 'love'. What a silly boy he was. It was quite a sad thing, too. He'd never really felt love, from anyone. Sure, his mother wasn't half as bad as the boy's father, but she wasn't exactly a saint, either. The unlucky result was that every single day, Roanoke knew that he would doubt her love, no matter how much she showed it. Not that she was sure that she loved him, of course, but at least she had known love in the past.

And so she dressed in a blue-grey tank top which she had had forever, meaning that she'd never realized what magical things it did to her already stunning eyes – making them sparkling orbs of grey and blue crystal. Then she put on some generic denim jeans, brushed her fiery hair and pearly teeth and walked out of her rooms and down towards the Slytherin dungeon. Despite only having been there once, Roanoke knew exactly how to find his room, and after doing so recited the password to a rather excitable little wizard who did not seem nearly dignified enough for the Malfoys. _Whatevs._

Walking in, she smelled wonderful things – they were things she couldn't identify, but wonderful things nevertheless. Roanoke toed off her shoes and stepped carefully inside.

"But _Drakie!_"

"No. Get out. Now. Blaise, help me here?"

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"I don't care! Just get out! Both of you! She's-Ohmygoshhi," said an obviously flustered Draco to Roanoke as he tried to push his two classmates out his door.

Blaise circled Roanoke like a vulture circles a corpse in the desert and said, "_So,_ Draco... This is your girl? I can see why you chose-"

He was cut off by Roanoke's angry reply, "I am _not _his, or anyone else's. I am my own. Got it?" The passion with which she hissed this into Blaise's face surprised not only Blaise, but also Pansy and Draco, it would seem, according to their wide-eyed expressions and open mouths. While Pansy was merely astonished at the force of this statement, Draco was rather hurt by it too. She _was_ his, wasn't she?

Pansy, for the first time in her life got some sense in her head and said, loudly, "Well, Blaise, we've got to be going, haven't we, mister?"

Blaise blinked a few times before nodding and stuttering, "Uh, uhm, yeah... Gotta go..." and rushing out the door.

Once they were gone, Roanoke wobbled tiredly over to the couch and sat down heavily with her head in her hands and her elbows resting on her knees. With a flick of his wand, Draco put whatever it'd been that he was cooking on a plate and took it to the couch with a glass of chocolate milk like a peace offering.

"So..." He said softly, "You want to tell me what all that was about?"

"Would you accept a no?"

"No."

"It was nothing, just forget it happened."

"Sure. But I can guarantee that Blaise and Pansy won't."

She finally looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and pleaded, "Can we please not talk about this?"

"Fine," he permitted, and rested her head on his chest, "but only for now. Later... Later we'll have to talk." When she didn't respond he craned his neck to look at her face. "Okay?" He asked.

"Mhm."

"Eat something."

"Not hungry."

"Eat anyways." With this request, she picked up his peace offering milk and took a sip before daintily picking up the fork beside the plate and commencing to eat.


End file.
